


honeybee

by honeybutters



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Abled Frisk, Bara Sans, Gender-Neutral Frisk, Minor OC usage, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Racism, Reader Self Harms, Reader has a damaged soul, Sans has PTSD, Self-Harm, Short Reader, Slow Burn, and a green soul, mentions of molestation, not often tho, reader has awful anxiety, reader has ptsd, so tw, written on my phone lol sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-30 02:11:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13940352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeybutters/pseuds/honeybutters
Summary: sans met a gal,sweet as honey, fuzzy as a bumblebeeeyes starlit and brightas she awoke a passion within him,he realizedhe didn’t want to sleep again





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi lol this is written on my phone sorry  
> enjoy my pals  
> uhhh  
> it’s prettu awful right now gimme a chance pLS IM SO RUSTY o k  
> ok the first chapter is short and uhhh sorry  
> updates will be frequent so uhhhhhhhhhhhh sorry lol oof

march 11, 2018  
gladiolus

Your shoes clicked the sidewalk in a rhythmic pattern, contrasting the sound of cars zipping past the road on your left.  
Eyes cast forward, they flickered up to observe the nursery’s front. 

‘Georgette’s Garden Nursery.’

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you hugged the sweater encasing your body tighter. You approached the adobe-made building and pushed the glass door open, the scent of mixed flora immediately hitting your palette. 

Ding. 

“Welcome again, Y/N!”

You flashed a wide display of pearly whites, watching a chicken monster saunter from behind the counter. She was short, stout, and made of nothing but maternal instinct and sugar.  
And magic. 

“Georgette! I missed you! It’s been too long,” you chirped, opening your arms wide for a hug. The bird stepped closer and wrapped her thickly feathered, white wings around your form. 

“Oh, sweetpea, you got that right. And here I was, thinkin’ you just all-up and forgot about poor ol’ me,” she drawled, pecking the temple of your forehead. 

You giggled.  
“I know! I do want to visit, but I also came to ask about some flowers. I wanted to know if you’re carrying them right now, as I think they’re in season.”  
Georgette cocked her head.  
“What are they?”

“Daffodils!”

The chicken’s beady, brown eyes lit up.  
“Oh, well of course I do! Come, come, this way,” she instructed, placing a gentle touch to your shoulderblades. Her ginger guidance led you forward, past a few pots of hydrangeas.  
In their glory sat velvet-petaled, white and golden flowers. The stems were thick, strong, and vibrantly green. 

“Oh, Georgie, they’re so beautiful! I couldn’t dream to grow something this lovely,” you murmured, running the pad of your thumb along the rim of the brick pot.  
You felt her wing swat you lightly.  
“Hush, now,” she chastised, looking maternally stern. Her armlike appendages sat on her hips now, a look of displeasure on her beak. 

“Y/N L/N, don’t you dare,” she began to scold.  
“You know you’ve got people up-n’-down the block, gawking at your garden. Don’t lie to me, now.”

Blankly, you stared, quickly retreating into your mind. Her lecture sat on you—  
She’s right. You’re not stupid.

You weren’t one to gloat, but you couldn’t deny you had two green thumbs. 

Shaking your head loose of thoughts, you slowly nodded towards her.  
“Thank you, Georgie,” you sighed, smiling sheepishly.  
“It means a lot, you know— uh, helping me get onto track like that,” you giggled airily. 

Her crooning smile returned. The bell above the door rang, but neither of you paid heed. If you had, it would have been futile. Seeing past the plants separating the nursery and the front of the store was awfully tricky. 

“Of course, sugarplum. Now, take your pick. You know how to spot a healthy plant,” she murmured, giving you a reassuring pat before retreating to the front. 

You nodded, although she had already left.  
Picking past the leaves and stems, you observed the flower’s petals.  
Of the three plants, one was speckled with the most brown spots. Where they speckled, the satin petals were papery and thin. 

You pushed the plant aside, and moved to the leaves. 

One prevailed in the front— a beautiful bell, but with droopy leaves and a slightly flaccid stem. You wrinkled your nose slightly, before moving to the last plant to scrutinize. 

Beautiful. 

Silently, you lifted it into your arms, giving a slight grunt with the strenuous effort. The plant barely shifted.  
You cradled it securely, tiptoeing past the adobe pots and crates, shoes tapping the tile flooring oh-so-slightly.  
Instead of looking forward, you studied the soil in the pot. 

Impeccable as ever, Georgette. You really know how t—

“Oh, goodness gracious! Y/-“

You stumbled backwards, holding the pot tighter in your arms. You let your tailbone smack the tile, a shooting pain darting up your spine. 

“Oh, gravy! I’m so, so sorry! I should have been paying better attention!” A feminine, mature voice cried. 

With shaky movements, you gazed up.  
And gasped. 

It was the retired Queen, Toriel.


	2. the soul that quivers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sans wonders about a mysterious girl  
> you calm your nerves.  
> maybe.

gladiolus

The goat woman leaned down, extending a furred hand. You noted, through your spinning head and queasy gut, that she had claws as opposed to fingernails.  
“Goodness me, I didn’t see you there. Oh, love, let me help you up,” she crooned. 

You wrapped your [tone] hand around hers. Gingerly, she squeezed, and pulled you to your feet effortlessly.  
You noted you had to crane your neck to see her. On guess, you presumed she was at least 6”. 

The taste of iron hit your tongue. 

With wide eyes, you swallowed, not having realized that you’d even been clenching your jaws that hard— nor on your cheek. 

“Oh, I, t-thank you,” you stammered, peering meekly into her scarlet eyes for a second, before quickly averting your gaze. 

In your peripheral, you caught her slightly— was that sheepish? — grin. 

“I apologize again. Oh, silly me. You aren’t hurt, are you?”  
You were reminded of the searing pain in your backside. It felt like sanitizer in a paper cut. 

“No. No, I’m not hurt. Thank you,” you replied, smiling lightly. She seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, clasping her hands together.  
They were slender and elegant. You figured Toriel would be good at playing piano. 

Georgette’s talons clicked the tile as she anxiously paced behind you, sweeping up specks of fallen soul with a broom.  
On the counter were four bouquets that hadn’t been there when you entered. 

Georgette piped up.  
“I was just selling Miss Dreemur here some bouquets. She’s hosting a get-together with some friends,” the hen remarked, straightening the pot in your loosened hands. 

“Yes, actually.” The former royal smiled tranquilly. She plucked the assortment of flowers from the countertop and held them to her muzzle shortly, before exhaling.  
“For the trouble, I’ll cover it. Really, dear,” Toriel stated, reaching into her plum-colored purse. 

“No, you don’t have to! I can cover it,” you argued. 

“Nonsense. I’ve got it, don’t worry. Here,” the goat chided, handing a variety of green bills to the chicken.  
“This should cover it. Please, keep the change.”

Georgette nodded dumbly. You could have sworn you heard her squabbling with each bob. 

“Thank you very much, Ms. Queen Toriel,” you began, growing slightly flustered as the reality of her position dawned upon you. The retired royal just guffawed, shaking a hand dismissively.  
“Truly, it is no worry. I should be heading off, now, but may I get your name?”

You could hear your blood rushing.  
“Y-Y/N. I’m Y/N,” came your slightly timid reply. 

“A wonderful name, love. I hope to be seeing you around. And Georgette,” she spoke, taking a whiff of her bouquet.  
“Thank you for the flowers.”  
With the curt answer, Toriel ducked through the door, (of which her horns would have hit!) and vanished from sight. 

You stood, stockstill.  
“Y/N! I can’t believe that just— the Queen, you— my shop— she bought your— I—“  
The chicken burst into an excited bwak.  
“Oh, sugar! Get those daffodils home! Try not to run into any more royalty,” the hen teased lightly. 

You smiled. 

Georgette then pat your shoulder, leading you closer to the door.  
“Come by soon, okay? I’m always here! You know this,” she squabbled, opening the exit for you. Gingerly, you were escorted out. 

You knew Georgette didn’t mean wrong by kicking you out. 

It wasn’t malicious. 

She was just busy. 

With other people. 

Better than you. 

No, no, bad thought. Bad thought, you reminded yourself, sighing. 

You held the pot of daffodils tighter, and began to walk home. 

 

Sans watched Toriel re-enter the house, a twinkle in her crimson gaze. He quirked a browbone, watching her place two bundles of assorted flowers into a vase.  
“hey, tori. got flowers?” He questioned, cracking a lazy smile. 

He heard her claws click the marble counter. 

“I did! You see, I encountered the silliest of incidents today,” she drawled, ushering herself to the sink. The goat monster lugged a glass pitcher from under the counter, opened the freezer, and popped in a few ice cubes. 

“oh? like what? nobody gave you trouble, right?”  
Though he had a lethargic grin splayed across his face, Sans’ question was packed with serious. 

“Not at all! I was in a plant nursery— you know, Georgette’s? I was turned around, talking to her, when this human came and knocked straight into me.”

Sans tensed. 

“But, she did not mean to. Poor thing, her soul was quivering. I don’t think she intended to at all.”

Sans leaned back in his chair once more, tugging the coat around him a little bit tighter.  
“So, I paid for the flowers she wanted. A beautiful set of daffodils,” Toriel murmured, sighing.  
“Have Papyrus and Frisk come home yet? Typically they’re home by now.”

“nah. paps probably took the kid to go do something after school. you know him,” Sans chuckled. 

Toriel smiled, letting out a content sigh.  
“I suppose you’re right.”  
The monster woman dusted the lap of her dress, straightening her posture.  
“Well, I will be upstairs. You may stay if you would like to see Frisk before you leave.”

“yeah, probs gotta wrangle pap home too.”

“Yes, indeed. I’ll see you later, Sans.”  
Toriel’s form retreated out of the living room. Sans began to reach across the table, slowly. The sound of Toriel’s footsteps ceased. 

“And don’t drink all of my ketchup!”

The skeleton grumbled good-naturedly.  
“you’ve goat it, tori.”

“I better have! I don’t want to be buying a skele-ton of bottles later!”  
The sound of her chuckles carried downstairs.

Sans sighed, before placing his cheekbone in his palm. Though he thought primarily of Papyrus and Frisk, he couldn’t help but to innocently wonder. 

About who Toriel had run into,  
the girl who bought the daffodils.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u enjoyed  
> will update (MAYBE??) later tonighy??? i know this story burns hella slow and i’m gonna start it getting a little more interesting soon  
> don’t worry  
> hold on  
> gets juicy next chapter


	3. lots of talk about plants, and a little suspicion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sans is protective of papyrus  
> and suspicious of all this plant talk  
> you plant your flowers and decide to rest

irises

You lifted your set of ill-fitting keys to the worn doorknob, jamming them into the metal lock. With a few shakes and struggling turns, it clicked open.   
Your form pushed through, the door creaking open loudly. 

Picking up the pot of daffodils off of the cement ground next to you, you lugged it into your apartment room and sighed, the scent of floral aroma overpowering the fairly strong scent of filthy drywall and dirty carpet. 

Of, which, your complex refused to replace. Or even clean. 

With a soft sigh, you set the flowers onto the counter- directly in front of the sunlight, rushing out to the glass sliding door. Looking several stories down, the wind tousled your hair which had grown snarly from your errands anyways. 

“Well, I should fix these flowers a spot,” you remarked, looking to your little garden that was snakes around the bars of the balcony, and the pots and planters that littered the other areas. 

With a growing smile, you pushed aside some cool and damp soil to create a divot for planting. The fact that dirt was sure to soil — you credited yourself for that one — your shirt and bottoms, you didn’t pay heed. 

After all, clothes were replaceable. Technically, flowers were too, but they were alive. 

You wondered if flowers had souls, too. 

Souls were a new concept. Monsters had resurfaced nearly two and a half years ago, after all. Some littered the streets and mingled with people, but many resides in their own little towns. 

You couldn’t blame them, after all. A resurgence of racism had overtaken certain areas, shoving monsters away and warding them off like the plague. 

The thought made you shudder. 

I mean, yes, you were scared of the monsters when they first arrived— after all, the media did demonize them. The prospect of magic, creatures who were stronger than us, was terrifying.   
It still continues to be, in a much more minuscule way. 

You stood, before re-entering the apartment and dragging out the flowerpot. The adobe was heavy, and made an unpleasant creepy across your tile.   
De-potting one of the daffodils, you inserted it into the divots and depressions you’d dug for it. Filling it back up, you pat it tightly.   
The petals looked satin-soft. 

You continued to do this with the rest of the flowers, before standing and wiping your hands together. Little pieces of soil sprinkled onto the ground. 

The flowers filled you with a sense of renewed hope.

Hope, that you would someday get a less awful apartment. 

 

Sans watched as Papyrus and Frisk walked through the front door. A little bit of what looked like froyo had dropped onto the child’s t-shirt.   
“hey. how’s it goin’?”

He leaned back in his chair, closing one of his sockets. The remaining pinprick shifted to his younger brother 

“FANTASTIC! THE LITTLE HUMAN AND I GOT FROZEN YOGHURT AFTER THEIR SCHOOLDAY! IT WAS QUITE DELICIOUS, IF I DO SAY SO MYSELF!” Papyrus boomed, ending the statement with a ‘nyeh-heh-heh.’

Sans’s smile widened slightly. 

Frisk nodded, grinning.   
“Yeah. It was really fun! School was kind of boring, but it was worth the froyo,” the chirped, throwing their backpack by the door. 

“yeah. you must have been bone-tired after school.”

“That’s a recycled pun!”

“what’re you gonna do about it?”

The kid rolled their eyes good-naturedly, scratching their scalp. 

“Is mom upstairs?”

“yeah. think she’s doing some work.”

“Alright! Thanks, Sans!”  
Frisk shot upstairs, their footsteps pattling the floor. The short skeleton relaxed slightly, turning to Papyrus.   
“hey, bro. good day?”

“YES! WHILST ON OUR STROLL TO SCHOOL THIS MORNING, I NOTICED A BEAUTIFUL BALCONY! THE ENTIRE THING WAS PRACTICALLY ENCASED IN FLORA!”

“really, bro? that’s awesome.”

“YES! YOU SEE, THE GREAT PAPYRUS WAS ACTUALLY PLANNING ON STOPPING BY, TO GET SOME TIPS! AS YOU KNOW, I’VE WANTED TO BEGIN GROWING TOMATOES, AND—“

“you can look that up on the underneath, or in a book.”  
There was a sharp edge to his voice. 

“W-WELL, YES,” Papyrus stammered, growing slightly flustered.   
“BUT GETTING HELP IN PERSON IS ALWAYS BETTER THAN A BOOK! YOU KNOW? I SUPPOSE MAYBE IT’S A MONSTER, LIVING THERE! I’VE NEVER SEEN THEM! OR MAYBE IT’S ONE OF THE HUMANS, WITH GREEN THUMBS!”

He paused. 

“OF WHICH I’VE YET TO SEE AS WELL!”

“pap, you don’t know who lives there. what if it’s a human? you know that humans don’t really—“

“SANS,” the lanky skeleton spoke.   
“You Cannot Keep Your Prejudice Because Of A Few Misguided Humans. Look At Frisk! Look At The Humans Fighting For Monster’s Rights!”

The elder skeleton’s straight-face turned into a stern frown. 

“that’s the minority of ‘em, papyrus. the bad ones outweigh the good ones. i love you, but you’re n o t to go ask anybody for help. understand?”

The skeleton seemed to stand, open-jawed, before hanging his head with a sigh.   
“YES, SANS. I UNDERSTAND.”

“alright. ready to head home?”

“YES.”

There was a nagging feeling in Papyrus’s non-existent gut. 

One of inexplicable defiance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’ll be posting again today, you lucky ducks


End file.
